


The Look of Mischief in your Eye

by rage_quitter



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mithrax gets topped, Xenophilia, is it xeno if theyre both aliens? [think emoji], knotting (but not the furry kind)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 07:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18936403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rage_quitter/pseuds/rage_quitter
Summary: Variks reached up and trailed his claws under Misraaks’ rebreather. He chuckled at the way Misraaks froze. “You know I am intuitive. I’ve seen how you watch me, Misraaks, wistful and lingering…"





	The Look of Mischief in your Eye

**Author's Note:**

> well. here you go.  
> i have more soon  
> (Variks calls Mithrax, Misraaks)

“Misraaks.”

The burble of Variks’ voice had Misraaks looking up from the data pad in his hands. He softened at the sight of Judgement in the doorway watching him. “Ah. Hello, Variks.”

Variks hobbled into the room. The airlock hissed closed behind him. “You’ve kept yourself so busy,” he commented. “Are you alright?”

Misraaks sighed and set down the data pad. “Managing a House is… a lot more than I’d thought it would be,” he admitted wryly. “Even with Guardians on our side… and with you… it’s a bit stressful.”

Variks angled his head. “What were you expecting?” he chided gently. “You know, you can take a break.”

“Yeah. I can, but…” Misraaks growled softly at the data pad. “But there’s so much that I need to do… I can’t really afford to--”

Cool metal fingers looped around his wrist. Misraaks froze. “You should,” Variks said, his voice quiet. “Time away from it will do you well.”

Misraaks felt his words stutter behind his teeth. “I, uh, I should… I…”

Variks looked up at him and chittered a laugh. His fingers scraped lightly at the keratin plating of Misraaks’ wrist. “You thought I did not notice?”

He went cold with a flush of Ether. “I, I didn’t…”

Variks leaned on his staff and tugged lightly at his hand. “Come, Misraaks,” he said, his voice a purr. “Leave things be for a time. I will help take your mind off of things.”

Misraaks let Variks pull him along easily. Almost too easily. “Is, um, this… allowed? Judgement, and…”

“Who is there to tell me what I can and cannot do?” Variks pointed out.

“Oh. That’s… yes, that’s fair,” Misraaks said. The airlock hissed to let them out. He kept pace with Variks, led along by the firm metal fingers gripping his wrist. He paid some attention to where he was being led, but most of his attention was on Variks himself.

Most of his attention had always been on Variks when he was near.

They slipped quiet through the Ketch until Variks was tapping a keypad. Misraaks blinked as he was brought into Judgement’s private quarters. He hadn’t been in here before, and took a moment to observe. There were trophies scattered about, on tables and mounted on the walls, presumably reclaimed from the Prison, armor from slain enemies and Guardian victories. There were random human objects, too, armor and weapons and all number of strange curiosities, with tiny labels attached. Gifts, Misraaks realized with a softness in his chest. Variks was well-loved by Guardans; it made sense that he would have been given plenty of gifts from the strange kind-hearted things.

The airlock closing caught his attention.

Variks had a grin in his eyes when he turned around.

Misraaks felt the sealed airlock against his back as Variks stepped forward. A metal claw reached around him to lock the door.

“Are you alright?” Variks asked, hushed.

Misraaks felt a nervous little laugh burble in his throat. He had two feet of height on him, but something about the way Variks looked at him… he nodded, words dying behind his teeth.

Variks’ eyes glittered, roaming over him until Misraaks shifted. “Are you nervous?” he asked, almost teasing now.

Misraaks felt a cold flush return. “No,” he said.

Variks reached up and trailed his claws under Misraaks’ rebreather. He chuckled at the way Misraaks froze. “You are,” he purred. “Don’t be. You know I am intuitive. I’ve seen how you watch me, Misraaks, wistful and lingering… ever since I was freed of the Nine’s influence, and joined your new House as your Scribe for Judgement… I have grown tired of waiting for you to speak up.”

Misraaks’ tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

Metal fingers closed the seal of his Ether tank and unlatched the straps of his rebreather. “Misraaks,” Variks murmured. “I am good at reading you. But I need you to speak.”

Misraaks took a breath. “Yes,” he said, and winced at the waver in his voice. “I--yes, I suppose I… might have been… enamored, from the moment you came to us. I knew you before, but not well, and--”

Variks chuckled and leaned close. “And you didn’t say anything, fearing that Judgement isn’t allowed romance? I didn’t think that those rumors were believed!”

“Well,” Misraaks said, defensive and flustered, watching his hands. “I didn’t know!”

“It’s your House, you know,” Variks said. “You are Kell. Are the rules not yours to make?”

Misraaks blinked owlishly. “Oh. They are. I can do whatever I want.”

Variks laughed now. “And what is it that you want to do?”

Misraaks felt a bold rush. “You,” he purred.

Variks drew up with a spark in his eyes. “Is that what you think?” he said.

Misraaks hesitated. “What do you mean?”

Fingers brushed against his mandibles, then his hip. He nearly melted into the touch.

“Do you think,” Variks whispered, “that you really would have me? No, no, Misraaks. I know. I would have you and you would love every moment.”

The Ether in his body turned to jelly for a moment.

Variks’ secondary eyes narrowed with a grin behind his mask. “Now you understand. Your armor.”

It was spoken like a command. Misraaks moved automatically, hands flying to undo the straps of his armor.

The clatter of the metal on the floor startled him.

Variks shook his head, clearly amused. “You can put it down,” he said, gesturing with a secondary hand to the desk. “Have I already made you forget how to think?”

Misraaks growled softly. It wasn’t in any real warning. He set a pauldron down.

Variks leaned heavier on his staff, a hand moving to his shoulder. He was clearly eyeing Misraaks with appreciation as more of his armor was set aside. There was a low rumble in his chest, eager and touched with affection.

As Misraaks reached for his belt, Variks stopped him with a touch. He looked up to examine his face now, critically, almost. “You are certain?” Variks asked. “At any point, if you want to stop…”

Misraaks leaned forward and curled a hand at his mask. “Yes,” he said. “I want to continue. I… want to know you.”

Variks leaned into his touch with a deeper purr. “I must apologize,” he said a bit dryly. “I’m afraid I’m not, ah… as strong as I once was.”

Misraaks frowned and trailed his hand over his shoulder. “Your injuries… it’s okay. I understand. That doesn’t matter to me.”

There was a visible look of relief on Variks’ face. He reached up and slowly removed his helmet and mask.

Misraaks hadn’t seen him without it before. He swallowed down pity and anger. The metal in his throat, his vocal synth… what had Skolas done to him?

Variks looked… a little nervous.

Misraaks cupped his jaw with his primary hands, ever so gentle. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Variks’, a low purr in his chest. He reached forward to carefully work at Variks’ armor, too.

He helped keep Variks steady as his banner was set carefully aside. He tightened his jaw at the sight of metal bound into flesh, the broken edges of his keratin plating, the scars and marks across his body. Misraaks felt a deep urge to protect him, keep him safe. He seemed smaller out of his armor.

Variks placed a hand against Misraaks’ chest. It wasn’t to push him away. He looked at the metal against his keratin, then slowly reached up to hold his wrist in loose fingers.

“You’re okay?” Misraaks asked softly.

Variks looked up. His secondary eyes scrunched with his chitter. The scars on his mandibles curved with the sound. “Yes,” he said. “A foolish worry, it seems.”

Misraaks leaned down further to nuzzle into his throat. His Ether smelled crisp and sharp. “I like you just as you are, Variks,” he told him. “I’d dock Skolas a thousand times over for this, but he’s already dead, and you live on instead. You bring glory and honor to our people, harmony and peace to all those who follow the Light.”

Variks cupped his jaw with chilly fingers. “Kell of Kells,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry about titles and prophecies,” Misraaks said. “Not now.”

“Yes. Yes.” Variks gave a nod and eyed him. “I promised to… take your mind off your duties, dearest Misraaks.” His claws dragged lightly along his jaw. The secondary hand not clutching his staff for balance brushed Misraaks’ hip, making him inhale sharp. “And I intend to do just that. If you would allow me.”

“I…” Misraaks ducked his head a bit, flustered. He finished his sentence in a mumble. “I think I’d allow you do anything you want, if I’m honest.”

Variks grinned. “That’s exactly what I hoped you would say,” he purred.

Misraaks found himself pressed against the wall again. Variks gripped him for balance, lifted onto his toes to press his mandibles to Misraaks’ throat. Misraaks heard and felt him inhale, scent his Ether, and grasped his hips to keep him steady.

There was a soft tap. Misraaks flicked his gaze to the side. Variks had set his staff against the wall. He was trusting Misraaks to keep his balance.

Variks’ teeth scraped lightly against his skin, and Misraaks shuddered under his touch. His Ether flooded cold and quick, little sparks following every touch of Variks’ claws and teeth against him.

“Nest?” Variks purred.

Misraaks tightened his grip at his waist. “Gladly,” he agreed eagerly.

Variks drew back with his eyes bright. He clutched Misraaks’ hands and limped for the heap of soft cloth that made up his nest. Misraaks kept beside him, careful to keep a hand under his elbow and another at his waist. Both to help him walk, and because he didn’t want to stop touching him.

Variks pushed at him gently. Misraaks happily plopped down.

It took a second for Variks’ half-metal legs to cooperate, but then he was crawling onto Misraaks’ lap. All his hands were roaming now that he didn’t need them for balance, and Misraaks could only purr as his claws dipped into the spaces between his plates, trailed along the patches of skin, lingered on scars.

“What if,” Variks said softly, teeth at his throat, “I told you… that I might have been thinking about this for quite some time?”

Misraaks shivered and ran a hand over his side. A secondary wrapped around Variks’ thigh. “You’d be in good company,” he assured.

“I’m glad,” Variks told him.

The way Variks twitched his hips had Misraaks forgetting how to breathe for a second from nothing more than just anticipation. He could already feel a damp pressure building low in his stomach, his pelvic plate starting to part.

Variks gave a sharper bite at Misraaks’ jaw that had him gasping sharp. Variks chuckled and flitted his tongue over the bite, almost apologetically. “I must admit,” Variks said, voice deeper, raspier, “while I had guessed that you would happily let me take control of you, I didn’t expect you to be this receptive.”

Misraaks shuddered under him. “I… I guess we’re both learning something about me,” he said with a nearly delirious-sounding laugh. It was hard to think about anything else but the Vandal on his lap.

Variks pushed himself upright. Misraaks took a moment to just look at him, admire him. The strength of his character, despite his hardships… it was beyond admirable.

Misraaks reached up. Variks watched his hands.

Ginger and cautious, Misraaks splayed his fingers over Variks’ chest. He slowly shifted his hand along his chest plates, catching just barely in the jagged scars. He met Variks’ eyes for a moment, fingers lingering gentle at the rough edges where his arms were attached to his shoulders.

“Does it hurt?” Misraaks asked, hardly a whisper.

Variks shook his head. “Often, yes,” he said. He lifted his hand, flexed the metal fingers. “Some days more than others. Phantom pains, too.”

“The memory of metal in flesh?” Misraaks asked.

“One you’re familiar with, too.”

“Are there any among us who aren’t?”

Variks growled in understanding and sighed.

Misraaks let his fingers curl against him. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, you’re fine,” Variks said. He rested a hand on Misraaks’, pressing his fingers to his scars. “I appreciate your care of me.”

Misraaks purred deep in his chest. “I would want what is best for you. You mean a lot to me.”

“I won’t let it stop me from ensuring that you know how I feel,” Variks said. His mandibles parted in an eager grin. “Lay still a moment.”

Misraaks nearly held his breath.

Variks traced his primary hands along Misraaks’ exoskeleton, dipped along the edges to draw shivers from him, and paused at his waist. He shifted back and waited a moment with his hands at Misraaks’ belt. When Misraaks lifted his head a little, silent consent, Variks unclipped it and tossed it aside to clatter on the floor.

Misraaks tightened his fingers in the cloth of the nest.

Gentle metal claws traced over the partition of Misraaks’ pelvic plate. He shuddered at the sight, hips shifting, drawing his knees apart a little further. Variks looked eager. Misraaks nearly reeled at the hunger on his face. No quiet fantasy could compare to this--

He let out a low groan. Variks pressed into his plate again, more insistent now, and the cold of his fingers sent jolts through Misraaks. He twitched at the touch against his flesh trying to free itself from his plate, then keened as Variks rubbed at him.

“Let me see you,” Variks murmured. “Let me touch you.”

Misraaks wanted it.

With a shudder of relief he felt his length slide out from its sheath within his body into Variks’ waiting hand.

Variks tightened his thighs a little as he gently squeezed Misraaks’ slick length. He rubbed his thumb along the underside, covering the metal in Ether-streaked fluid. Misraaks twitched in his hand, breath catching, almost dizzy looking at Variks languidly touching him.

Variks let out a rasping breath, hunger on every feature. “I could watch you for hours,” he whispered. “Touch you until you cannot think anymore. I’ve thought about you before. How it would be to… hold you down… tie you down…”

Misraaks jerked his hips at the thought.

Variks chuckled and stroked him lazily. “Interested?”

He had to take a second to get his jaws to cooperate. “Maybe,” Misraaks breathed.

“Later, then, perhaps,” Variks promised. His eyes glittered bright. “For now, though… let me have this, have you.”

“Whatever you want,” Misraaks said without thinking.

Variks’ tongue ran over his teeth. “A dangerous promise,” he warned.

Misraaks took a breath, only to have it escape him in a pleading moan. He let his head fall back, eyes half-lidded. “If it means that you never stop touching me I’d promise anything,” he said. “By the Light, how are you doing that?”

Variks chittered and did that thing with his fingers again that had him shuddering. “I’ve had some years of practice,” he said dryly.

Misraaks was too turned on to make a joke about that. His brain was mostly focused on the fingers on him.

When more slid along his plate to tease around his pore, Misraaks tensed. He lifted his head.

“Is that alright?” Variks asked, angling his head. He offered a primary, the dull-fingered metal claws. They’d felt sharp enough, but…

Misraaks still hesitated.

“It’s fine,” Variks murmured. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. I know humans do that a lot more than we do, thought it might be interesting to try.”

“Perhaps another time?” Misraaks offered.

Variks brightened. “Another time,” he agreed. “Something more familiar?”

Misraaks shivered. “Yes,” he whispered. “Variks…”

Variks shifted. He grimaced as he pushed himself up. “Stupid legs,” he grumbled.

Misraaks chittered and reached out to help him. “You’re alright!” he assured. “Here, I… what do you want me to…?”

Variks tapped Misraaks’ thigh and nudged him. “Let me get between your legs,” he murmured.

He swallowed dry and moved. Variks leaned forward over him as he let his legs drape open around him.

Metal fingers caressed his jaw. Variks grinned and nudged his thigh with his knee, encouraging Misraaks to spread his legs further.

He did, and then reached his secondaries down to free Variks of what little was left of his own armor. Variks sighed softly in obvious relief at the freedom.

Misraaks clicked his mandibles in eager appreciation as he looked Variks over. He couldn’t stop touching him, a secondary gripping his thigh, another at his hip, primaries roving over anything. He could smell the sharp scent of his Ether, rich and coppery, and it was maddening.

Variks tipped his head. “Still alright?” he asked.

Misraaks nodded. “More than,” he said warmly. “Please, Variks…”

Variks cupped his face and shifted his weight. He let out a low, pleased trill as he met Misraaks’ hips with his own. The slide of his length against Misraaks had him groaning and tightening his grip.

Variks grunted and bent his arm to better hold his weight. He snaked a secondary hand down to catch both of them in his hand for a few moments before guiding himself to Misraak’s pore.

Misraaks tugged his head down to press his face to Variks’ throat, smell the bright Ether jumping cold and quick beneath his skin, as Variks pressed into him. He felt good, so good, and Misraaks was almost embarrassed by how he melted so easily into the Vandal. He might’ve been if it wasn’t the best feeling he’d had in… probably decades, honestly. And Variks seemed just as into it, too.

With slow, almost too-gentle rolls of his hips, Variks worked himself into Misraaks. His breath rasped quick and uneven between his teeth and his arms shook a little.

He came flush with him and they both stayed still, hardly daring breathe for fear of breaking the quivering intimacy of the beautiful moment.

Variks curled his fingers around the bicep of one of Misraaks’ arms with a soft sigh. His eyes were closed and his mandibles were loose and open.

Misraaks felt a blissed purr rumble in his chest. The scrape of his own nails against the keratin of Variks’ thigh startled him.

Variks blinked at him and chittered. “You have utterly won me over,” he said softly. “What is it that humans refer to such sweetness as this?”

“Love making,” Misraaks said, English rolling from serrated teeth. “Is there a reason you ask?”

“Curiosity,” Variks admitted with a small laugh. He shifted his hips and trilled at the feeling. “I wanted to learn what they call this. I know a few other terms, but specifically this… I feel it is accurate.”

Misraaks blinked, eyes going wide.

Variks purred and started to move his hips, slow and careful. “Did you think… this was physical, Misraaks? Nothing more?” His voice came out breathy, his vocal synth catching. “I care for you, deeply. Noble and… strong, clever. Bold. You bring… bring greatness to the Eliksni… once again. Worthy of Kell of Light.”

Misraaks grasped him tighter and arched into his thrusts, increasing steadily in speed and force. “Ah, Variks, Variks,” he moaned out. He hooked one leg around one of Variks’.

Variks gripped him tightly.

Misraaks felt the heavy bulb of his length nudge against his pore and dug his claws in. He heard Variks’ breath hitch.

“If you don’t want--” Variks started.

“Yes, yes, I do,” Misraaks said, nearly begged.

Variks braced his arms a little better and rolled his hips. Misraaks ground himself back against him, hungry and dripping for it, for him.  

He stretched around him. Variks gave a sharp, sudden jerk of his hips.

Misraaks couldn’t stop the choked howl that burst unbidden from his throat.

Variks filled him, swelling hard and locking them together. A deep, satisfied, almost drunken purr rumbled out of Variks, warped a bit by his vocal synth.

Misraaks trembled around him. It had been a very long time since he’d been filled by anything that wasn’t a toy in the privacy of his own quarters, longer still since it had been with someone he cared so much about, felt safe around. He felt nearly like it was his first time all over again, so enraptured by Variks’ almost commanding aura.

He was definitely learning a lot about himself.

Variks pressed his face against Misraaks’ chest. They were too locked together for him to easily reach his throat with their difference in height, so he scraped his mandibles against the plates of Misraaks’ chest.

Misraaks let his hands skitter over him, unable to stay still. He was dizzy with need.

Variks shifted, ginger and cautious. Misraaks shuddered at the tug of their join. “Ah,” Variks rasped out. “Misraaks…”

He ran his fingers down the back of Variks’ neck, traced the plating on his head, drew little shivers from him. “I’d… keep you here forever,” he managed to get out around the lump of mindless pleasure clouding his mind and jamming his throat.

“That can be arranged, I’m sure,” Variks told him, clearly as lust-drunk as Misraaks felt. Good.

Variks rolled his hips very slowly, carefully. Misraaks clenched down on him until he felt his length wriggle in him. He clutched him harder and whined. “Do that again,” he begged.

Variks tightened his jaw. Misraaks keened at the touch inside of him, the press of his length against his sensitive walls. “Oh, there, there,” Misraaks warbled. “Perfect, good, so good, Variks…”

He was evidently trying to keep rubbing that spot. Misraaks nearly writhed under him, pleading whines in his throat, scrabbling at him, hands shaking. He needed to come, needed to finish, needed Variks to come in him and then fuck him again and again until they were spent. Nothing else mattered in his mind anymore but Variks.

Variks shuddered hard. “Misraaks,” he said, warning. His length twitched, erratic and eager.

Misraaks’ length writhed between them, his slick coating their bellies. He tightened his thighs around Variks. “Please, yes, come,” he whispered.

Variks growled out and gripped him hard enough to nearly scrape his keratin.

Misraaks gasped. A sound nearly like a drunken gurgle spilled from him at the rush of feeling. Variks’ length pulsing wildly, then the stiffening of Variks’ whole body against him, the broken sound he made as fluid poured into Misraaks.

He scrabbled uselessly, pleading, until the feeling of being filled by Variks’ come was too much.

Misraaks clutched him tight as he came around him. The world went stark white, ears ringing, all the arc energy in a Skiff’s engine thrumming in his belly and sparking over his limbs. His Ether pounded hard alongside his blood.

He gasped out again for breath as he came down.

Variks was leaning against him, laying on him, still slowly coming into him. His bulb was still swollen too tight to slip out yet.

Misraaks was spilling his fluid between them. He could feel it trickling down his sides, feel his length lazily pulsing and twitching against their stomachs.

Variks trailed his hands over him. “Good,” he purred. “You’re wonderful.”

Misraaks wanted to scent his Ether again. He was too far. He grasped his secondary and very carefully tugged his hand up to his face. Variks watched as Misraaks pressed his mandibles to his wrist.

Thick, sharp. Variks always smelled very clean, nearly minty, kind of like human soap. It was pleasant.

They lay there quietly together, their only sounds their breathing and the deep purring in their chests.

Finally, Variks shifted his hips. His bulb slid out.

Misraaks twitched at the loss and the feeling of come slipping out of him. He had a brief moment of panic--eggs. But he flopped back in relief, remembering that Variks didn’t have enough Ether for it to be a concern. He still refused enough to rank above Vandal, for whatever reason, no matter how many times Misraaks offered.

Perhaps now he’d change his mind.

Variks chuckled softly. “You look good like this, Misraaks,” he said.

Misraaks grinned at him. “Yeah?”

Variks’ eyes glittered as he unabashedly looked over him. “A sight fit for nobility. A sight I could easily become used to seeing… you filled with my come, sprawled out in my nest, my teeth marks on your throat…”

Misraaks squirmed a little, sparks flooding into his gut again. “Variks,” he murmured.

Variks wormed close to nip at his throat. “I’d want to do this so much more. We’re an unstoppable duo.”

“What is it the humans say? ‘A hell of a team.’”

Variks chittered. “That, too, yes.”

Misraaks looped his arms around him. “For as much time as the Great Machine gives us, Variks,” he promised.

Variks knit his fingers in Misraaks’. “Yes. Yes. We will have more time than I could have hoped. The Light will return to us.”

“We’ll live together in it.”

Variks pressed his mandibles to Misraaks’ wrist. “For now… for now, my love.” He looked up, a hopeful look on his face. “Do you want to go again?”

Misraaks shivered eagerly. “I hoped you would ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> stop by my tumblr @lesbianeliksni


End file.
